The Way To Santa Fe
by LightsOfBroadway
Summary: We know Roger sold his guitar, bought a car, and made his way out to Santa Fe. Ever wonder what he was thinking when he left? Or more important...what made him come back?
1. Prologue

Roger ran down the street in a tear-stained haze. He could still hear Mimi's cries, as Benny and Mark tried to comfort her. He wanted to shut that sound out--not just because he hated the thought of Mimi so upset, but because Benny was the one there, with his arms around her, telling her everything would be alright.   
  
Nothing was ever alright, except for when he was with Mimi. Then he had been happy. Then Angel died. And his relationship with Mimi fell apart before his eyes. Now nothing would ever be alright again. He had to leave--had to escape all this. New York City would forever torture him with memories of the two.   
  
In front of the loft was the battered, old, green car he had bought with the money from selling his prized guitar. Mimi's favorite color, he thought, sending a fresh wave of pain over him. Shit, I have to leave.  
  
Fumbling in the pocket for the keys, he jammed them into the door and unlocked it. A firm hand clasped over his before he could open the door.  
  
Roger looked up and saw Collins in front of him, joined by Mark. Wiping tears from his eyes he pushed Collins away. "Go. I'm leaving. I'm done talking," he said, through sobs.  
  
Mark was close to tears, Roger noticed. Mark never cries.  
  
"Roger," he said. "If you're not going to listen to me, please talk to Collins. You can't run away like--"  
  
"How do you know what I can't do??" Roger screamed. "You don't understand. You could never understand! She-She..."  
  
"She loves you" Collins said, placing his hand on Roger's shaking shoulder. "And she knows she was wrong. If you stay...she'll get clean. She'll start taking her meds again. You'll kill her if you leave! She's got nothing left to live for, except you!"  
  
"Look what she did to me!" Roger cried. "The thought of her makes me sick. If I get within ten feet of Benny I'll kill him. I'm so afraid I'll wake up and find out she died. I can't eat. I don't take my medicine anymore because I don't want to live through this shit. And I fucking love her more then anything!"   
  
Mark sighed. "There's no getting to you, is there? You need to face this, not run from it! You need to accept--"  
  
"You don't understand!" Roger said again, interupting. Even if Mark was right, he couldn't hear it now. "I can't deal with this anymore. I'm leaving."  
  
He pulled the car door open and jumped in. Jamming the key into the ignition he turned it on and sped away, barely giving Mark and Collins time to get out of the way. Fighting to keep the tears out of his eyes he drove out of the city in silence. 


	2. Chapter One

**Jonathan Larson owns them all. I just play with them a bit =) **  
  
Chapter One  
  
It took Roger a little less then two weeks do drive across the country, from New York City to Santa Fe. Though through the long drive he passed many beautiful places and landmarks, he couldn't have told anyone where he had been, what he had seen, if they had asked. The whole drive he had been running on a mix of caffene, fast food, AZT, and shutting himself away from any form of emotion.   
  
Sunny, happy, and relaxed, Santa Fe was nothing like New York. And that's exactly what Roger wanted. To start over again. Be someone new. Someone who hadn't fallen victem to broken hearts, disease, and one too many crushed hopes and dreams.  
  
While driving down a main road, the rumbing of his stomache made Roger realize he hadn't eaten since...yesterday? Two days ago? He didn't even know.   
  
The Santa Fe Diner caught his eye, and he pulled into its parking lot. He pulled out his dirty, fake-leather wallet and looked inside. A crumpled five dollar bill was all he had left.   
  
Enough to buy something to eat, he thought, and went inside.  
  
Roger had seen many a run-down place while living in New York, but this place just looked sad. The whole room looked gray and somber. Pieces of stuffing were falling out of the garish green upolstered chairs, which clashed horribly with the carpeting. The mica was peeling on the tables. Some worn and dusty menus lay scattered on the side of one table, forgotten.   
  
"Table for one?"  
  
Roger turned towards the sound of the voice, and found it belonged to a tall, dark haired girl, whose nametag matched the garish green color of the chairs. "Liz" it read, in big white letters.  
  
Roger barely nodded, acknowledging her presence. Liz grabbed one of the forgotten menus and let him over to a table in the corner.  
  
"You must be new in town, havent seen you before. Then again, maybe not. No one ever comes in here."  
  
Roger glared at her. "Can I just get some coffee please?"   
  
Liz bit her lip. "Just trying to be nice," she muttered. "Asshole," she added, just a bit louder, so he could hear. Then she went off to get the coffee.  
  
Roger rolled his eyes at the dark-haired girl. How dare she call him anything...she never knew him, knew what he went through. The pain he tried so hard to ignore...  
  
The clink of the coffee mug on the table announced Liz's arrival. "Look, I'm sorry about that crack. It just hasnt been a good day. Maybe we can start over. I'm Liz Evans, a psych major at University of New Mexico, and I work at this greesy spoon to make a bit of spare cash," she smiled wryly.   
  
Roger sighed. "Yeah, I'm new here. My name's Roger."  
  
"Oh, a newbie, I knew it. You didn't seem like you were from Santa Fe. Where from?"  
  
Roger hadnt thought about New York since he left, and now this girl was bringing up all the painful things he was trying so hard to forget. This girl needed to go away, now...before she could make more of the pain come back.  
  
"Nowhere. I'm here now though," he muttered, taking a sip of the blazing hot coffee.  
  
"Well, if you need a place to stay, there's a little Inn down the block, it's run by this really nice couple who don't care if you pay your rent a bit late or anything, as long as you keep your room clean. And as gross as this place is, it's decent money. It'll pay your rent, at least."  
  
Roger thought back to the loft he had shared with Mark, and how often they complained about how in New York, your life was based around how you could pay your next year's rent. Guess it's not just New York, he thought to himself. "I'll think about it," he told her.  
  
She smiled. "Tell them Liz sent you by."  
  
He nodded, and passed the five dollar bill towards her. "How much?"  
  
She shook her head. "On me," she smiled. "Something to commerate your first ten minutes in Santa Fe. It's nice here, a good place to get away."  
  
Never one to pass up anything free, Roger put the five back in his wallet. She certainly was right about getting away, though. Him and Collins and Angel used to dream of coming out here, escaping the hell that was New York City. He missed Angel so much...  
  
"Yeah," he said. "It is."  
  
"I lived down in Alabama. This place called Dover, one of those really small hick towns," she laughed. Now that Roger listened, he did hear a slight Southern accent in her voice. "I hated it. I always thought there was more to life then what Dover could offer me. So I graduated, and I left the next day. I drove my stupid little car to Santa Fe, and I've been working here ever since. Hard to believe its been four years, but I love city life. Been thinking of heading up to New York City after I graduate...ever been there?"  
  
He sighed. No matter how many hints he dropped, he couldn't get this girl out of his hair. He couldn't escape his past when every stupid thing she said brought up a memory of Collins, Mark, Joanne, Maureen, Angel...or Mimi. "New York is a busy place," he answered.  
  
"Yeah, but thats part of the appeal. They say once you live in New York everything is boring by comparison. Guess I'll find out."  
  
Roger downed the rest of the coffee. "Well, thanks," he said. "See you around."  
  
"Don't forget to drop by that Inn," she smiled.  
  
"I'll go there now," Roger called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.  
  
The Inn wasn't hard to miss. In a section of stucco buildings was a large house, with a sign outside reading "Main Street Inn." He definetely needed some sleep in an actual bed...his car had been a makeshift bedroom for the past two weeks, and his back was starting to complain. He parked around the corner and went inside.  
  
He entered into a small foyer, with a tiny television and a few armchairs. A reception desk was in the back. "Um, hello?" Roger called into the empty room.  
  
"Just a minute" a voice called from another room, and then a small, smiling old woman entered from a back door. "Can I help you, dear?"  
  
"Liz said I might be able to rent a room here."  
  
The woman looked perplexed. "Liz?? Oh, you mean Elizabeth! Yes, she's in 2C, a darling young lady. Well, come over here, uh...whats your name, dear?"  
  
"Roger."  
  
She nodded, and sat behind her desk. "I'm Edith Harrison. My husband John is out doing some shopping. So you need a room?" She placed on a pair of small reading glasses.  
  
He nodded.  
  
Edith took out some papers. "Let's go through the formalities quickly as possible. Rent is due on the first of the month, but I won't start hounding you for it until the tenth or so," she smiled. "I just need you to fill these out, give them to me by the end of the day or so. We're very relaxed around here."  
  
"There's a small kitchen unit in your room, but Thursday nights all the tennants usually eat dinner together, as our little tradition. You're welcome to join us," she continued. "Pick up your mail at this desk, it's organized in those slots up there, your key will open yours. Theres a public television down here, but if you want to buy one for your room, thats fine too. Other then that, just mind the other tennants, pay the rent, and enjoy your stay in Santa Fe."  
  
Edith handed him a key. "You're room 2A. Up those two flights, first room on the left."  
  
Roger thanked her, and took his small suitcase upstairs, stopping at the room labled 2A. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.  
  
The room was small, but nice. There was a small kitchen, with a tiny mica table, a small bedroom, and an even smaller bathroom.  
  
Throwing his suitcase on the floor, Roger layed down on the bed, falling asleep almost immediatly. 


End file.
